


The Game

by omojolras



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (eh not really but you know), Bladder Control, Bladder torture, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, bladder desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omojolras/pseuds/omojolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A drinking game?" Enjolras said, arms folded over his chest. "You know I don't like alcohol."</p>
<p>"It's not that sort of drinking game." Grantaire sat across the table in his apartment, arms folded lazily behind his head. "It's, well...it's really more of a desperation game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

"A drinking game?" Enjolras said, arms folded over his chest. "You know I don't like alcohol."

"It's not that sort of drinking game." Grantaire sat across the table in his apartment, arms folded lazily behind his head. "It's, well...it's really more of a desperation game."

"What?" Enjolras sighed, wishing he was anywhere but here. He  _ should _ be folding brochures with, say, Combeferre or Courfeyrac, not...not this obstinate man. But when he had asked eight hours earlier who wanted to fold brochures, Grantaire had been the first to volunteer, and, well, shouldn't one take advantage of an opportunity like that?

Back at the Musain, Enjolras had assumed it was some sudden interest in politics, a complete change of heart. Now, he wasn't quite sure of anything, except that he was sitting at Grantaire's coffee table, it was near midnight, somehow their task was not yet done, and Grantaire was asking him to play a  _ game. _

"And why, pray tell, is a 'desperation game?'" Enjolras asked, arms folded over his chest.

"Joly and Bossuet and I play it all the time. It's, well--here, you know what, Joly wrote down the rules. Let me see if I can find them." Holding up a finger, Grantaire went to rummage through his junk drawers.

Joly. Bossuet. Enjolras sighed at the thought of his friends. They weren't in their shared apartment with Grantaire tonight. With their help, they would have finished hours ago, and Enjolras wouldn't be spending the night with--

"Found it!" Grantaire dropped a much-folded piece of notebook paper on the table. Squinting, Enjolras read Joly's scrawled notes.

 

**_DRINKING GAME:_ **

**_Supplies:_ ** _ two regulation dice (no weighted dice, Grantaire), pitcher of water, enough cups for everyone, no shame _

**_Rules:_ ** _ drunkest player goes first (that means you, Grantaire). Move in a clockwise circle. Players must roll the dice, consult the chart, and perform the task. _

**_Objective:_ ** _ be the last one left with dry pants. _

_ 2 - drink half a glass of water. _

_ 3 - don't fidget for thirty seconds. _

_ 4 - listen to running water for one minute. _

_ 5 - drink a full glass of water. _

_ 6 - press on your bladder for ten seconds. _

_ 7 - spread your legs for ten seconds. _

_ 8 - drink two full glasses of water. _

_ 9 - relax all your muscles for thirty seconds. _

_ 10 - do ten jumping jacks. _

_ 11 - no holding yourself for one minute (that means you, Bossuet) _

_ 12 - free pass! Instead, any player of your choosing has to do whatever YOU want off the list. _

 

Enjolras was momentarily speechless, a rare occurrence. When he finally spoke, it was in a subdued, slightly mystified voice. "That's disgusting."

"Ah, not really." Grantaire grinned. "Well? What do you say?"

"No! I mean, it's--"

"Come on, it's fun! I mean, we need a break, right? Any other game is just gonna put us to sleep."

Enjolras groaned, but truth be told, his eyelids  _ were _ starting to feel heavy. "Fine. Can I pee first?"

Grantaire shook his head, grabbing glasses from the cabinet. "Nope. Against the rules."

Enjolras' jaw dropped open. "Wh--that wasn't in the rules!"

"Wasn't it?" Grantaire asked absently. "Oh, well. You'll just have to tough it out."

_ Tough it out. _ Fine. Enjolras could do that, although thinking about his small need made it double. "Fine." He sat on the hardwood floor, legs crossed. "Although what's to stop me from using the bathroom?"

"Isn't that in the rules?" Grantaire set the pitcher and glasses on the table. Enjolras noted that, should one of them have to drink, they would have to stand up with their bladder full. "If one of us surrenders, the other gets to tell anyone for the next twenty-four hours that they pissed their pants."

For the second time, Enjolras' jaw dropped open. "That's--"

"The more you argue, the more desperate you get." Grantaire seemed to be enjoying himself.

Enjolras huffed, but silently acquiesced. "Fine. I assume you're drunk?"

"Not now, actually. But I think that we can designate me 'the drunkest', since I've never seen you have anything stronger than water." He rolled the dice, watching them settle. "Ah, speak of the devil--five. One glass of water."

Enjolras watched Grantaire gulp down the liquid with a careful eye. He looked unconcerned--although, Enjolras realized, why should he worry? His stocky, tall body would certainly have a greater capacity for desperation than Enjolras'. Enjolras squirmed, not out of desperation, but out of nerves.

Grantaire returned to his seat on the floor, nudging the dice towards Enjolras. "Your turn. Try not to piss yourself too early--really takes the fun out of it, you know?"

Enjolras scowled, but only rolled a two. Under Grantaire's watchful eye, he drank half a glass of water.

And so it went. For the next few minutes, the two rolled dice and grew more desperate. Enjolras consumed an unexpected amount of water, to the point where he accused Grantaire of cheating somehow, and though he hated to admit it, the desperation hit him fast and hard. Though he attempted to remain subtle, he had begun to shift around, the twinges in his bladder becoming harder to ignore by the second.

"Four," called Grantaire, making a face. "Listen to running water." Without complaining, he grabbed his phone and hit play on a recording of a trickling stream.

"Hey, that's not fair," Enjolras said, wincing. the sound of the water was affecting him more than he cared to admit. "I have to listen to that, too, you know." 

Grantaire merely shrugged, biting his lip. He began to shift around, too, and seemed all too eager for his thirty seconds to be up. Enjolras watched him closely, mind momentarily taken off of his own bladder. It was odd to see Grantaire in this state, so vulnerable. He liked it, he decided.

Clearing his throat and shaking his head, Enjolras tossed the dice, peering at the numbers as the white cubes clattered to a halt. "Seven. Spread--" He groaned, laughing anxiously. "Spread my  _ legs?" _

Grantaire smirked, casually pressing his thighs together. "C'mon, Enjolras. can't break the rules, can we?"

Taking a shaky breath, Enjolras squeezed his thighs together one final time before spreading them. Instantly, his desperation magnified, and he let out what he hoped was a soft groan.  _ One. Two. Three. Four.  _ He rocked his hips back and forth, growing more frantic by the second. _ Five. Six.  _ He sucked in a sudden breath as a wave of desperation nearly pushed him over the edge. Wetting himself had seemed like an abstract concept only seconds ago, but it suddenly seemed all too real. The seconds ticked by like eons as he ground his crotch against the floor, taking labored breaths.  _ Seven. Eight. Nine-- _

He felt wetness. Automatically, his legs snapped together, and before he could control himself, he was clutching himself as though he were five years old.

"Desperation really starts to hit right about now?" called Grantaire.

Hearing Grantaire's voice brought Enjolras back to earth. He released himself, blushing, and straightened his back up, although this only sent a fresh wave of desperation through his body. "Stop stalling and take your turn," Enjolras said in his best impression of a teasing Grantaire.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, grabbing the dice. "Relax, buddy. No use in prolonging matters for you, right?" The dice clattered on the floor. "Ten. Damn." Sighing, he heaved himself off the ground. He froze for half a second, then squirmed suddenly, jiggling his legs violently.

Enjolras snorted. "Feeling under control there?"

Grantaire shot him a dirty look, but didn't respond. Enjolras grimaced as Grantaire began jumping--he shook the floor, and with it, Enjolras' bladder--but after a second, Enjolras felt odd. There was something nearly intoxicating about watching Grantaire perform stiff, desperate jumping jacks. He knew Grantaire was fit from boxing and dancing, but still, to see his muscles tighten in this new way...

"Ten," said Grantaire, looking sweaty from more than the exercise. He was quick to sit down, pressing his thighs together. "Enjoying the view?"

"What? I, uh--" Enjolras shook his head, feeling warm. He rolled the dice too quickly, looking far too interested in the outcome. "Six. press on--press on my  _ bladder _ for ten seconds?"

"Oh, yeah. That's a great one." Grantaire flashed him a smile. Enjolras, who was already feeling considerable pressure on his bladder, did not smile back. Hands shaking, he pressed experimentally on his bladder. Instantly, his desperation doubled, tripled, and he had to double over to keep himself from leaking.

"Harder," insisted Grantaire, and, whimpering, Enjolras complied.

It was fortunate that Grantaire was counting for him, as Enjolras couldn't bring himself to focus on anything but his overpowering desperation. No longer concerned about how he looked, he began to squirm uncontrollably, bending double at each new wave of desperation, clamping his thighs together so tightly it hurt, whimpering without caring how he sounded.

Around the fifth second, he felt wetness seep into his underwear. Unable to control himself, he gasped, grinding against the floor, but it wasn't enough. He used one hand to hold himself, still pressing with the other one. the flow lessened, then trickled to a halt. He let out a whimper, the desperation almost uncontrollable, and longed to let out more urine. He scarcely noticed when his time was up, too preoccupied with staying in constant motion.

Grantaire's turn seemed uncontrollably long to Enjolras. He watched the white cubes settle, and--no. He prayed it was a trick of the light, prayed that the tears of desperation were blurring his vision, but Grantaire's triumphant shout (followed by a wince--he, too, was feeling strained) confirmed Enjolras' fears. Grantaire had rolled two sixes.

"I get to choose your challenge!" he hooted, pumping one fist in the air before squirming. "I..." He rubbed the stubble on his chin, smirking into the distance. "You know what? I want to see you relax for thirty seconds. I don't think I've ever seen you relax before."

Enjolras' face flushed, which he hoped he could pass off as merely a desperate blush. The thought of relaxing his muscles now...it was unfathomable. Yet he unclenched his fists, doing his best to stop trembling.  _ I am relaxed. I am relaxed... _

The first ten seconds went surprisingly well. Then, sometime around the fifteenth second, he could feel an unmistakable wetness in his pants. He stiffened automatically, but upon catching Grantaire's gaze, he relaxed again, letting out a low whine. He was amazed at how little his near-constant leaking did to relieve his desperation; his bladder was so full that it would take more than a few leaks to relieve the strain.

Somehow, he made it through the thirty seconds without utterly soaking his pants, clutching himself and moaning and shivering the second his time was up. Around his trembling hands, he could see the darkened fabric.

Grantaire saw his expression and sent him a grin, although the way his hands shook said that he felt rather the same way. "Leaking? Don't worry, happens to the best of us. Doesn't mean you lose, though--you're still in control."

Numbly, Enjolras rolled--only a half cup of water, thank God--and returned to his spot on the floor, on the brink of losing control. He barely noted when Grantaire went a minute without holding himself, whimpering and dancing from side to side

The wetness of his pants made his desperation worse--in fact, everything seemed to make his desperation worse. How had he not noticed how impossibly  _ tight  _ the waistband of his red skinny jeans were? They cut into his bladder, which was now swollen to an uncomfortable size; it looked like a water balloon.  A water balloon, jiggling out of control and filled with-- _ oh, God _ . He felt himself lose control for half a second again, and he knew that no matter how long he held himself, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

"Your turn," gasped Grantaire, the words scarcely there.

Hands shaking, Enjolras rolled the dice. They seemed to take an eternity to settle, and when they did, he groaned. "Five. Drink a glass of--" At the thought of the word, hot piss spurted into his jeans, and he clutched himself. "Grantaire--"

"Well?" Grantaire watched him expectantly, his shifting becoming less subtle by the minute. "Drink up, Enjolras."

Enjolras stood up carefully, holding himself tightly. He shuffled over to the pitcher of water, feeling his hands grow warm and wet. At the sound of water hitting the cup, he froze, a long jet of piss trickling down his leg. Losing his composure entirely, he clutched himself with both hands and broke into a full-on potty dance. "Nng, Grantaire, I need to  _ piss _ , I c-can't--"

"Can't wait to hear how the Musain reacts? Me either."

Enjolras whined under his breath, hopping uncontrollably from foot to foot. Then, exercising what felt like an impossible amount of self-restraint, he grabbed the pitcher, continued pouring, and downed it. At each sip, he winced; though he knew it was impossible, it felt as though each sip traveled directly into his bladder. Despite the cool water, he was sweating bullets by the time he shuffled back to his spot on the floor.

It was utterly impossible to focus on anything but his bladder now. His heart hammered in his chest. His mind raced, and endless stream of  _ gottagogottagogottagonow _ . He barely noticed Grantaire drink two glasses of water, had no time to think of a mocking remark as Grantaire whimpered and bent over.

"Your turn," Grantaire said through gritted teeth.

Enjolras cringed. A fresh wave of desperation racked through his body at the sound of Grantaire's voice, and it took a view seconds of violent rocking to regain control. Stiffly, painfully, he reached for the dice. They hit the floor, seeming to send reverberations through Enjolras' bladder, before settling on a number. Tears of desperation swam in Enjolras' eyes as he read the now-blurry spots.

No.

Oh, no.

"Grantaire--" he gasped, bladder feeling ready to burst.

"Ten jumping jacks, buddy." Grantaire smiled, though there was a wince beneath the smile. "No holding yourself now."

Enjolras made it to his feet, every muscle tense. Shakily, he removed his hands from his pants, and began to count. "One--"

Tearing his legs apart, he felt a long, fast jet of piss streak down his left thigh. He went to grab himself, but saw Grantaire's raised eyebrow and soldiered on. "Two. Three--"

He was fighting a losing battle, and before he reached his fourth jumping jack, he had succumbed to the inevitable. He fell to his knees, almost feeling lightheaded at the release of liquid, and led out a rather lewd groan as his bladder emptied itself of what felt like gallons of water. His muscles relaxed, sending a magnificent tingling feeling through his body, something almost orgasmic.

He couldn't think of that. Distracted by another moan, he swiveled his head to see Grantaire doing the exact thing he was--apparently, Enjolras' relief had pushed him over the brink. The two knelt on the hardwood floor, pissing for what seemed like an eternity, until their bladders were finally, blessedly empty.

Enjolras stayed in the same position, head hanging, for nearly a full minute after his wetting. He blinked tears out of his eyes--not years of embarrassment, to his own surprise, but relief. His heart thudded violently in his chest, as though he had run a marathon. The relief--God, he could feel it coursing through his veins.

"Damn," Grantaire croaked from a few feet away, sounding as relieved as Enjolras felt. "Didn't think you had to go that badly."

Enjolras blinked, glancing up. He saw the puddle--lake, really--that he had left on the floor, and for the first time, he felt a flush of shame. "Well, you lost, too," he muttered, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep across his neck.

"No, hey--look, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just, well...I never thought you'd hold out that long." He shook his head. "For someone so tiny, you've sure got one big bladder."

Enjolras laughed, breath coming out in pants. "Maybe I'm just stubborn."

"You know, I think it could be a mix of both."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Enjolras stretched out on the floor, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His piss cooled on his pants, deliciously wet, and the tightness of his jeans meant that the wetness had spread nearly everywhere.

Grantaire coughed, looking uncharacteristically shy. "I can, uh, get a mop and you can, you know, borrow a pair of jeans, if you want..."

A wave of disappointment washed over Enjolras. "Do you want to do that?"

Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, his expression shifting to surprise. "What...what do you want to do?"

Enjolras pushed himself off the floor, his newly tender bladder nearly making him moan again. "I want..."

For the first time, he noticed Grantaire's own soaked pants, the grey fabric clinging to every muscle. Odd how Enjolras had never noticed his legs before.

Grantaire noticed Enjolras' stare, and a smile quirked at the edges of his lips. "Well," he said, moving closer to Enjolras, "Maybe we don't change just yet."

Enjolras' mouth felt dry as Grantaire's hand crept up his wet thigh. "Yes," he said, warmth filling the pit of his stomach. "Maybe we won't."

 

**Author's Note:**

> is this what u wanted victor hugo
> 
> (aaaah idk man i just feel like..enjolras would love desperation contests and he would try so hard to win them but his bladder is so tiny and of course grantaire loves this and holy shit im a sinner)


End file.
